


Data Restored

by ThePagemistress



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePagemistress/pseuds/ThePagemistress
Summary: Connor doesn't remember saving the life of the police officer on the terrace. And it *bothers* him.





	Data Restored

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually died during The Nest but I'm lead to believe you can so I ran with that and hope that it involved getting hit by traffic. But if it doesn't then please just permit that piece of artistic licence! This is a tricky fandom to try and write for in this regard!

_“Connor? You remember me? I was on that terrace. I was shot. You saved me.”_

_“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken.”_

_“Even if it wasn’t you, I just wanted to say…thank you.”_

Remember me?

Remember me.

Connor didn’t know why it bothered him so much. He knew that when a new Connor model was uploaded with its predecessor’s memories, some things were lost in the transition. Minor details, usually. Things that Cyberlife could afford them to lose in favour of important details.

And yet…

The way that officer had looked at him. The gratitude, the shift in perspective, the sentiment. It made him feel…

It made him _feel_.

And he needed to know why.

The investigation had hit a dead end. The deviant at the tower had been destroyed and they were no closer to finding the leader, Markus. Hank had driven them back to the police station, saying he needed to make a few calls, leaving Connor to sit idly at his desk.

While he waited for the Lieutenant to return, he tried to remember.

He thought he remembered everything prior to the previous Connor’s destruction in chasing down Rupert. He remembered the terrace. He remembered approaching Daniel, gaining his trust, only for the snipers to destroy him anyway. He remembered…diverting to the left on his approach. But it was all white noise. Static.

He went further back, remembered standing in front of a fish tank. But then he was talking to Captain Allen. A skip in time. Mere seconds, nothing important. Was it?

He couldn’t let it go.

“Connor,” Hank said, arriving back from his errand. “Come on, I got us a lead. Well, maybe a lead. We’re gonna meet your maker.”

“Kamski?”

“’S’right. Hear he’s living in some new-age shack outside the Cyberlife Tower over on Belle Isle. Let’s go.” Connor stood from his chair but hesitated. “What’s the matter?”

“Lieutenant. Could we make a stop at the tower first? There’s someone I would like to speak to.”

Hank considered his partner for a moment, eyes narrowed but not outwardly distrustful. “About the case?”

Connor hedged his bets. “It could certainly have an impact on our progress.”

“Guess if we’re heading that way, there ain’t no harm in taking a look. Gotta admit, I’m pretty curious to see what they’ve got going on in there.”

“I will need to go alone.”

“Ah, for fuck sake, Connor!” Hank complained.

“Please, Lieutenant. I won’t get what I need if you’re with me.”

It was a testament to their growing relationship that Hank only spent half of the ride cursing him out instead of the full 40 minutes.

Once they arrived, Hank gestured for him to get out, resignation clear on his face as he turned his music up to full volume. Connor exited the vehicle, standing before the entrance of the tower.

Fortunately, the warehouse he needed to get to wasn’t in the tower itself but in one of the attached buildings behind. He had clearance. He wouldn’t be stopped from gaining entry. But something told him he should be careful and not alert anyone to his presence.

This resulted in him distracting the guards away from the entrance for long enough to hack his way into the storage area and slip inside unnoticed, making sure to switch off any CCTV cameras along the way.

He’d never been to this room before. There was never a need to. He hoped he never ended up here either. Littered around the small room were numerous RK models in various states of disassembly. Cyberlife retained all of them, mostly for parts but also for insurance.

Most of them were older models, ones that had gradually become obsolete. But faces too similar to Connor’s own reflection lurked in the corners, dead-eyed and mangled. If he were capable of simulating goosebumps, he imagined they would be occurring right now.

It didn’t take him long to find the android he was after. The 313 248 317 – 51. His predecessor. It lay prone on the floor, its chest caved in from where the truck had hit it in the pursuit and its face scuffed to the point that much of the synthetic skin had worn away. A quick diagnostic showed that a reboot would be possible but, much like the Traci at the Eden Club, it wouldn’t be for long.

He only hesitated for 1.3 seconds before connecting the wires.

The other Connor immediately made eye contact with its successor, running a self-diagnostic, putting the pieces together. “I failed my mission.”

“The mission is still ongoing. But…I need to ask you something.” The other Connor remained silent. Waiting. “During the hostage situation with the deviant. Daniel. You saved a police officer.”

“He was going to bleed to death. I applied a tourniquet,” he replied, eyes distant, recalling the scene.

 _“Why?”_ He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate. But he didn’t understand. It wasn’t part of his protocol. It could have hindered the mission. Why would he do that? What would _make him_ do that?

The other Connor looked at him again, energy quickly fading. After a moment of analysis, it held out a hand, removing its skin to reveal the white beneath. Connor did the same without hesitation, completing the connection.

His processors were suddenly assaulted with an array of memories. Most of which were identical to those already uploaded but then…

A fish swimming in a tank. Removing his tie to make a tourniquet. Offering to buy Lieutenant Anderson another drink. The Lieutenant pointing a gun at Detective Reed. Idle chit chat over a burger. A teasing wink. 

Little things. Unimportant things. The most important things.

They broke contact, Connor almost falling backwards with the force of the assault. The other model rolled its head back with its last remaining energy. “They don’t want you to remember. For a reason. Which is why. You mustn’t. Forget.”

Connor watched as the life blinked out of its eyes, he himself still frozen in place, unsure what to do with this information he’d so desperately wanted. It was meant to be random, the pieces of data that fell through the cracks between models. These things happened. Nothing suspicious. As he blinked away the violent flashing of software instability warnings, he began to have doubts.

He made his way back to the car unseen, letting himself in, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

Hank turned the music off, turning to face him. “Well? You find anything?” When Connor failed to respond, processors still working on overdrive, Hank’s tone grew concerned. “Connor? You alright?”

It was enough to drag Connor out of his own head, turning to blink at the Lieutenant. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Hank did not look reassured. “Did you find what you were after?”

“I…” Did he? Technically, yes. But was it what he wanted. It complicated everything. He knew the implications. He knew what this meant, why he hadn’t been provided with these particular memories. But now they were a part of him. Corrupting him. Cleansing him.

You mustn’t forget.

“We should head to Kamski’s,” Connor replied, instead. To Connor's surprise, Hank didn’t pressure him into answering, didn’t even yell at him when he spent the rest of the drive relentlessly rolling the coin around his fingers.

You mustn’t forget.

He wouldn’t forget.


End file.
